Shivers
by armageddon-incarnate
Summary: A Halloween fic. Can't really tell you more except that I want you to review, please. Just read it! Rated for safety in later chapters. Chapter three up. It's complete now.
1. Shivers

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Shivers

A/N: Well… everyone else is doing it! Yep, yet another Halloween fic! Whoo! For Halloween, I'm gonna be Emma Goldman! No, I'm working on getting the massive tattoo on my forehead that proclaims 'DORK'. I might have it by the end of the year… Oh well…

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate: Atlantis, or anything affiliated with that franchise.

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A shiver ran down McKay's spine as yet another cold burst of air came upon the bare skin of his face. The hairs on the back of his neck were already standing up, and his breath created a small white puff of air every time he exhaled.

He looked around his surroundings, silently cursing himself. Children were smarter than he was! Hadn't it been pounded into his head, ever since he was small, that whenever you were separated from a group, you were to stay exactly where you were, not go blundering around, especially in the a forest at night!

McKay shivered miserably again. It was so cold, he was so lost… he needed to find Sheppard and Ronan and Teyla. He figured that he already had hypothermia, that he was slowly dying of exposure to the cold. He must already have three fingers that were frostbitten, and probably also a nose. The only nose he'd ever get, and it was going to blacken and fall off. His only nose. Instinctively, McKay put his hands around his nose, trying to send what little heat he had in his hands into his nose, to heat it up.

But if his fingers fell off, how was he going to type? It would be next to impossible to do any work on Atlantis without his fingers! McKay hardly blinked, just shoved his hands under his armpits. No nose was nothing compared to not being able to work. That is, if he ever got back to Atlantis.

Why, oh why, did he always have to follow those stupid, stupid energy readings? They always ended up with the team captured, or injured, or, as in this case, separated. As always, there had been an explosion, rendering McKay unconscious. When he had awoken, he had immediately felt for the invariable torrent of blood that would be gushing from his head. Surprisingly enough, there was none. But it was still freezing cold, so cold that McKay's nose panged with pain every time a new breeze or gust of wind came up.

_Shuffle, shuffle. _McKay looked up suddenly, looked around him. He was certain someone was behind him. But no one was there. Shrugging it off, he instead focused on his surroundings. His scanner had been lost in the time he had been unconscious, so he had no idea where he was. He went up to one of the trees, looking for moss. On Earth, moss grew on trees only on the north side, giving one's self a direction. It was then he heard it again.

_Shuffle, shuffle. Crack._ McKay whirled around. Some kind of native tribe had obviously sent its warriors after him, because there they were. Tens of them, maybe even a hundred, and all every last one had his spear fixed on Rodney.

"H… hello. I'm, uh, Dr. Rodney McKay. I, uh… I come in peace. Have you seen my, uh, companions? Uh… where am I? Do you live around here? Can you take me to your camp? I, uh- ARGH!"

In one swift movement, the tallest man, the one closest to McKay sent his spear flying into McKay's gut. The scientist doubled over, the pain blinding, crippling. He felt a stab of warmth as yet another spear penetrated his weak skin, then another. Why were they doing this? They had no reason, he hadn't done anything! His mind began to reject the situation. It couldn't be true; it was so unreal, so inconceivable! There was no way this could be happening! And yet, as he tried to say something, to scream, to bring himself out of this dream, blood bubbled at his lips, a sure sign he had punctured a lung. How? Why?

McKay fell to his knees, collapsed. Why? Why? His brain previously had held all the answers, the answers to all the questions, but now, it didn't. It had stopped working, bringing all other organs down in a sort of internal computer crash that brought cheers to the natives and darkness, permanent darkness, to Rodney McKay…

…oOo...

McKay awoke with a gasp. There were things, things invading his personal space. Wires were attached to his head, to his wrists. He began to panic, his breath coming in short gasps. Then, something caused his breath to freeze in his throat.

He saw his captor. A scraggly white head, the hair unkempt and disheveled. Stick thin arms, the veiny hands pressing random buttons on whatever console he was at. Or, at least, McKay assumed it was a he.

Yet, as he kept watching, his captor turned, and McKay could see clearly that it was female. But her face was gaunt, like wax, and so pale McKay could swear that he could see the wall through her. It was then he noticed she had no legs.

She glided about two feet off the ground, and, as she came closer, he could see her hair sticking out in all directions as the speed stirred the air around her. Yet McKay could feel no breeze.

He shuddered as she came closer, got right up in his face, breathed on him. Her breath was bitingly cold, sending another set of shivers down his spine.

"Hello, Dr. McKay," she said.

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A/N: Well, did you like? I'll probably continue, when I find the time. This originally was going to be a one-shot, but I don't think it will anymore. 


	2. Love of Shadows

Shivers

A/N: I'm back, I'm happy, and I'm totally ready for reviews! So, yeah! Awesome! Pretty please review! Thanks to everyone who already has reviewed!

Disclaimer: I own nothing that is affiliated with SGA. I don't even own this computer. Oh well.

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Chapter Two: Love of Shadows

McKay couldn't even produce a squeak of fear. Where was he? Hadn't he just died?! How could this be heaven? All he had done for humanity, he had sacrificed all for humanity, he had given up sleep for humanity, he had died for humanity. And now here he was, in this… cold and dreary laboratory, kidnapped by some woman, some ghostly woman…

McKay shivered. She knew him, yet he didn't think he knew her, couldn't recall her. She had said his name clearly, with a sort of loving recognition, as if they had been intimate at one time or another.

After that first conversation, the first words she had spoken to him, his name, she had left him alone, floating away into the dark, leaving him to think. As if she knew that's what he needed to do at this point.

Uncomfortable, McKay shifted, trying to find the position that would allow him to be comfortable, to think more clearly. Somehow, he squashed his fingers under his own body, and he drew in a sharp breath as his nervous system sent the message to his brain.

"Are you comfortable, Dr. McKay?" Her voice, calm, almost loving, yet dripping with danger, came across the dark lab to him. He almost jumped in surprise. She chuckled, floating closer to him.

"Wh… who… who are you?" McKay demanded, trying to sound cross, something he knew he usually excelled at, but now, he felt, and sounded, scared as hell.

"Ah, ah, ah, Dr. McKay," she tutted, moving her finger in time with her 'ah's. "That will all become clear later. Not now. Hm." He noticed now that she held a clipboard in her transparent hands, and as she looked at it, he craned his neck, trying to see what she had written there. "Now, Dr. McKay, that's not very polite, is it?" she reprimanded him as she turned away, blocking his view of the papers. "Hm, yes, this should be perfect, should get the proper response…" she trailed off, smiling almost kindly, almost cruelly, at the scientist before she turned around, in the dark again.

"What are you doing?" McKay demanded at her retreating back. "What is this? Who are you?"

"Now, Dr. McKay, calm down," she said, reappearing, her hand stuffed into her pocket like they did in the old movies, to give the appearance they had a gun. "As I said before, that will all become clear in due time. Now, just relax…"

"How the hell am I going to be relaxed when I'm on some alien planet, with some crazy voodoo ghost woman doing experimental tests on me?!" McKay jerked away as far as he could from the woman as she got closer.

"Dr. McKay, as I said, relax. Relax." As McKay kept squirming, he saw a glitter of anger cross her face. "Dr. McKay! I said, RELAX!" A pale, almost transparent hand zoomed out of nowhere, and embedded itself in McKay's chest.

McKay gasped. It felt as if he had suddenly jumped into icy cold water, and the shock had stopped his heart. He could only watch as the woman removed her hand, and gave him something via the I.V.-like device attached to McKay. He felt himself trembling, and he closed his eyes. The tremors became jerks, became flailing, and then McKay froze. His body stopped moving, his organs stopped functioning, and he knew no more…

…oOo…

He was young again, a sensation he loved. No pains in his back, no pains in his knees. Nothing. Just strength, youth, innocence.

He almost skipped along the sidewalk. Whitewashed buildings on either side of him gleamed in pride, the roads were almost shining. He felt so happy, so full of joy. Nothing could go wrong.

And yet, as he turned the corner, he knew he was wrong. For the sight before him was one of despair, one of pain, one of ruin.

Rubble spread out before him, chunks of buildings, bits of sidewalk and street. It all seemed so fake, and then the stench hit Rodney's nostrils.

Bodies. He knew the smell of them, the disgusting, painful smell. Death. Death was all around him. It threatened to overwhelm him, threaten to send him to his knees.

"Little boy!" He whirled, angry and sickened. A man, a handkerchief covering his face, ran toward Rodney, scooped him up, and continued running, away from the destruction, away from the disaster.

Almost six blocks away, the man stopped running and placed Rodney back on the ground. Shaken, scared, the only thing Rodney could say was, "What happened?"

"A bomb," the man answered shortly. "Some kid built a bomb! Jesus Christ, a damn BOMB!"

"A bomb?" Rodney asked, horrified, not understanding. "What happened?"

"It obliterated the school. Killed everyone in a three-block radius. The kid's parents, teachers… even his sister."

"Who? Who could do that?"

"They think it was that McKay kid. Mary McKay? Marian?"

"Meredith." The shock of it all, the words just tumbled from Rodney's mouth. He didn't understand, the bomb hadn't been functional when he built it, how could it have killed his parents… and Jeannie?

"Yeah, Meredith McKay. One messed up kid. Who coulda thought he'd do that?"

"Yeah… who'd think he'd do that…" Rodney just stood there. How? Why? Why? He couldn't wrap his mind around it all, couldn't think, couldn't understand. His mind started to shut down, rejecting the reality.

"Did… did… did he live?" Rodney murmured, shocked.

"No. Lucky for everyone else. They say he turned it on himself, he blew it up by himself. Killed himself, and everyone around him."

"No. NO!" Rodney burst into tears. He wasn't suicidal, he wouldn't do that, couldn't do that. The bomb'd got everyone's attentions, he'd never even considered having it go off… how could he have? He didn't, he hadn't… He couldn't have… It wasn't true… IT WASN'T TRUE! NO!

…oOo…

"NO!" McKay's eyes opened, his face wet with his own tears. Another induced hallucination, that's all it was, he hadn't really killed Jeannie, hadn't killed his parents, hadn't killed his sister…

"Hm… very interesting… he rejected it… I must call in Anias…" Rodney glanced up and saw the ghost go back into the dark. He was alone.

"H… hello? Sheppard? Teyla? Ronon? Sheppard? Come on, dammit, this isn't funny! You've seen it all, come on out! Hello?! Someone answer me!" But no one did. He was alone. All alone.

He closed his eyes again. All alone. And tired. Ready for a long sleep, ready to know no more, ready to sleep. Ready to end it all…

Dr. Rodney McKay, brilliant scientist, slipped into a deep sleep. The heart monitor next to him stopped blipping, and began making noises, alerting his captors his heart had stopped working, but the scientist paid no mind. He had found his relief…

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A/N: Don't kill me! Oh, and review! 


	3. Blanket of Silence

Shivers

New A/N: Okay, uh... I posted this, then I was reading the fic again, and saw some MAJOR inconsistances, so I quick took it off and changed it a little bit, then reposted it. Whew! Sorry if anyone saw them, when I wrote this I didn't have internet connection, so I couldn't see what had happened in the previous chapter.

A/N: Well, this is the last chapter. I worked on this chapter for like, a week, even though it's pretty short. Please review! I really want some critiques; I know I'm not an excellent writer, so anything that may improve the read-ability of my stories is helpful to me.

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate: Atlantis. I think MGM does.

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Chapter Three: Blanket of Silence

Two ghostly figures floated down a dark hallway. One, seemingly male, was pale with deep, sunken eyes. His arms were behind his back, and his shoulders were ever so slightly hunched over, as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his back. The other seemed lighter, happier, as if she (for it was female,) were excited. Although she too was pale, she looked almost flushed, as it below her white skin there was a pinkish glow.

"But Anias," she said excitedly, "The results are completely different than we predicted!"

"Mhm," the male, Anias, murmured thoughtfully.

"I mean, you saw the brain wave patterns! The response to the hallucinogen and the boost of adrenaline, it was completely unexpected! This is possibly the breakthrough we've been looking for!"

"Most likely not," Anias said calmly.

"What?!" The female looked at him in shock. "But wasn't our mission to-"

"Laira, do you understand that this very well could have been a mistake, a fluke that very well may never happen again? I have been studying the human brain for nearly seven hundred years, and have seen many so called 'breakthroughs' go up in smoke." Anias' shoulders drooped just a bit more, as if he was remembering one of his own failed breakthroughs.

"But I have seen the records, Anias, and there is nothing like this. Never before has there been a response remotely similar to this one!"

"Which is why I do not believe it is a breakthrough. Inconsistencies rarely help out search."

"Well, you'll just have to meet him. He's completely different from any other test subject we've had before."

"You like him, don't you?" Anias eyed his co-worker questioningly.

"No, it's just… the curiosity in his eyes, Anias, even in this strange situation… You'll see," Laira said.

But as they arrived at the laboratory, Laira felt something was wrong. As they passed through the doors, a loud beeping greeted them. Laira felt her heart plummet and her stomach churn. She hurried over to the table where her test subject lay. She bent over him and found he wasn't breathing; when she tried to find a pulse, she found his skin cold. He was dead. He was dead, and there was nothing she could do.

She cursed loudly, and pounded the table in frustration. They had been so close! Strangely enough, she felt tears spring to her eyes, and she wiped them away angrily with the back of her hand, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

"He's dead," she announced flatly.

"Mhm," Anias mumbled, going over to the computer. "That's frustrating."

"You're telling me!" Laira sniffled a little bit. "We have to start all over again, pick a new test subject, everything! I'm pretty sure there isn't going to be another one like him in the three we've got left."

"Mhm, the preliminary brain scans did show he had a certain… potential."

"Potential?! He was a… genius! Even in stasis, he was always thinking. Something up there never got turned off like all the others did."

"Yes, well, the human mind is, and probably will remain, a mystery."

"I hope not."

"I almost hope so…" Anias' eyes glazed over, and he was obviously deep in thought. "I mean… shouldn't some things remain hidden? Should all the mysteries be solved? What might the consequences be? How many like him, promising, promising men, will die in the pursuit of answers? Hundreds? Thousands? Are answers worth a life? How much is a life, even a human one, worth?"

"All questions for philosophers, Anias, not scientists."

"Are they? If no one but the philosophers ask these questions, where will morals come form? They are not instinct for anyone, but individual answers to questions that have no answers. And if we have no morals, what kind of animals will we be, for morals make the man."

"But we are not men," Laira reminded the scientist gently.

"Yet are we all not ruled by the same philosophies? Hm," Anias seemed to come back from his place of deep thought. "Ah well. Let's get rid of this body, hm?"

Gently, the two scientists placed their test subject, Subject no. 903, into a bad to be disposed of. The man in whose brain lay all they answers to their questions was dead. He was dead, and they had never gotten a chance to fully get those answers.

They knew, however, that whatever he had to offer, who he was, or what he did, or hadn't gotten to do, the universe had lost someone special.

They were right, for the man who died, the man who was lost to the universe forever, was Dr. Rodney McKay.

The End.

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A/N: Did you like it? I hope so… if you didn't what do you think could be changed so it would be better? If you liked it, what about it did you like? Please tell me so I can work on my writing! Thanks, by the way, to everyone who reviewed in the first place! You really give me confidence to continue!


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